by Phil Swann
Gasping for air, he ripped open a bandage and placed it over the bleeding wound. The nausea was getting worse. He looked back at the bed. J.P.'s eyes moved with him as he walked over to her. Her eyes showed the fear and profound hatred she felt for the man standing over her.
"Jean Ann," Petrovic panted, his genitalia swinging inches above her face, "after all we have been through, have you no pity for me?”
J.P. stared without expression. If she could have, she would have reached up and ripped his sac off with her mouth. But the drugs were too strong.
“Don’t worry, it’s almost over.” Petrovic walked back to the desk. He picked up the slug that had been lodged in his body. He turned to J.P., held it up, and let go a sadistic laugh. “They thought this little thing would kill me.”
He turned to the mirror and smiled. Then without warning, vomit spurted from his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and his head fell onto the desk.
A small leather book sat open on the desk beside Petrovic’s head. An unfolded brown piece of parchment lay under a magnifying glass atop the two pieces of music from the museum.
Dear Wolfgang, the letter began in German. Petrovic’s hand covered the middle of the letter. But the words at the bottom were large and in English, God be with you brother, Ben.
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Washington Post
Morning edition
MOZART LIVES!
At the Smithsonian Institution last night, Curator of Musical Antiquities, Dr. Danielle Parsons, announced the discovery of a previously unknown work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In a brief statement to the press, Dr. Parsons said, “We know the piece exists and have a good idea where it is located. We’ll have it in a matter of days.”
Dr. Parsons denied the premature nature of the announcement was to draw attention away from the attempted burglary that occurred at the Museum of American History earlier in the day. In that incident…
Conrad Woo watched the black Lincoln Continental pull off Pennsylvania Avenue and roll into the empty parking space below Capitol Hill. The morning sun caused the dome of the edifice to glisten and cast back the still waters of the capitol’s reflecting pool. Wearing tan pants and a navy blue windbreaker, Woo leaned against a concrete wall circling the water and waited for the driver to turn off the engine. Once the car’s parking lights went out, Woo approached, opened the rear passenger side door, and stepped into the vehicle without invitation.
“Have you seen this?” Douglas asked, tossing the newspaper in Woo’s lap.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“And?”
“It’s a ruse.”
“Are you sure?” Douglas asked.
“No, but it will have the desired effect either way. I gotta hand it to Fowler, this was a bold move. I didn’t think the old guy had it in him.”
“So you think Petrovic will go for it?” Douglas asked.
Woo shook his head. “He’ll go for it, God help them.”
Douglas sighed. “Good. We’re running out of time.”
»»•««
On the outskirts of Alexandria, just off the George Washington Parkway, a large white-framed house sat nestled behind tall ancient oaks and weeping willow trees. To anyone who might venture up the winding gravel driveway, the two-story home would appear no different from the scores of other homes built in this historic region of Virginia. What the intruder would not see—or more precisely, could not see—were the infrared security cameras situated in the branches of the trees and the electrified barbed wire fence surrounding the perimeter of the property.
David’s hand slipped along the banister as he trudged down the rear staircase leading from the upstairs bedrooms into the den located at the rear of the house. Stepping into the room, he saw Dani and Agent Fowler listening to another man explain the specific purpose for each of the computers Fowler had delivered the night before.
“Morning,” David said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven thirty,” Dani answered, looking up with a soft smile. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
David nodded. “How long have you been up?”
“Since about six—went to sleep about five minutes before that. How’d you sleep?”
David spoke over a yawn. “Okay, I guess. Ravel is getting a little sick of the constant relocating and woke me up a couple of times, but he likes this place better than any of the others.” David looked around the beautiful room—hardwood floors, walls of alabaster, and twelve-foot ceilings. “What am I talking about, probably more than his own home.”
Dani smiled. “Yeah, Hemingway’s adjusted quickly too. He doesn’t know what to do with all that backyard. Thanks for getting him, Mr. Fowler.”
David added, “Yeah, thanks for getting Ravel also.”
Fowler was watching the technician tie in the phone line to the computers’ modems and acknowledged the appreciation with a casual salute.
“I’m gonna get a cup of coffee. Either of you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Dani answered.
Fowler answered with a gesture that said no.
David stopped before he exited the room and turned around. “Uh, Mr. Fowler, did Kathryn get off okay last night?”
Dani kept her head down and made sure she didn’t react to David’s inquiry.
Fowler looked up for the first time. “I put her on a private jet myself. I also arranged to have her picked up at LaGuardia and taken home. She made it safe and sound.”
“Wonder how she’s going to explain it to Mr. Depriest,” Dani said.
“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be just fine. In the meantime, you two have other things to concentrate on.”
David took a deep breath. “Yeah, we do. Let me get a cup of coffee and a quick shower, then we can start.”
"First things first, though," Fowler said. "Before you two dive into this thing, I want to try something."
"What?" Dani asked.
“I want to put David under hypnosis. A man from the bureau should be here in about an hour to perform the procedure.”
“What,” David said with a half-laugh.
“Relax, it’s nothing weird, just some relaxation."
"You've got to be kidding? I don't need to be—”
Fowler interrupted sharply. "David, I think you’ve got some things locked in that head of yours we need to let out. Now we're going to try this. Go get a shower, but why don't you lay off the coffee for an hour or so?"
»»•««
Jimmy sat on the balcony across from Anthony, inhaling a bagel stuffed with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and red onion.
“What time did she get in?”
“I don't know,” Anthony answered. “So tell me again, where were they taken to from Shoewalter’s?”
“The airport. The Feds had a Lear waiting. You talk to her yet?”
“No, she was asleep when I got in from the concert. And your contact at the FBI has nothing?”
“Nada,” Jimmy replied with cream cheese on his chin. “Only thing he said was something went down at the museum where the Parsons chick works, burglary or something. That’s all he knows.”
Anthony dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood. “Well, we’ll just have to ask her what occurred, won’t we?”
“You mean you’re just gonna ask her direct like?”
“Yes,” Anthony answered. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the supportive husband now. Besides, it’d be suspicious if I didn’t ask.”
Jimmy drained his glass of orange juice and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”
“Okay, get lost. I hear Kathryn moving around upstairs.”
“You’re always telling me to get lost.”
“Beat it, Jimmy.”
“Okay, I’m goin'. Call me, capisce?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll call you, now goodbye.”
Jimmy had no sooner shut the door than Kathryn came
down the stairs.
“Honey, you’re up,” Anthony crooned, kissing his wife on the cheek. “I was so worried about you yesterday. Where were you?”
“Oh darling,” Kathryn cried as she wrapped her arms around Anthony’s neck. “It was horrible, just horrible.”
“What? What was horrible?”
“You were right, David has changed. He’s nothing like the old David.”
“You saw David?” Anthony asked.
“Yes, at Henry’s house. He was there with a woman, then…”
“Then what?”
“Then the police came—I mean the FBI. They arrested all of us and took us to DC. That’s where I was all day yesterday.”
“Washington, DC.? You were taken in by the FBI?”
“It was horrible.”
Kathryn released her hold on Anthony and sat down on the divan. Anthony joined her, taking her hand in his. “Why would they take you in?”
“Because they thought I was with David. Anthony, he did kill Henry.”
Anthony was caught completely off balance. This was not what he was expecting. “Did he confess? Did he say he killed Henry?”
“He as much did. Oh, Anthony, he’s filled with so much hatred. He said he was going to get back at all of us for how his life had turned out.”
“By what means, dear, did he say?”
“The Mozart. You were right again. Henry did go out to L.A. to get David’s help on his Mozart project. But instead of helping him, David killed him.”
“Why? For what purpose?”
“Money, just money,” Kathryn said, breaking into tears again. “It’s a requiem mass Mozart wrote for his mother. It’s worth a fortune, and I’m sure David knows where it is. But he’s not saying anything. He’s holding it over everybody’s head. He said it was his ace up his sleeve.”
Anthony heard the words but couldn’t believe it. “Darling, I’m so sorry you went through this. Did David give any indication where the piece is, any at all?”
Kathryn wiped her eyes and thought for a moment. “No, he hardly said anything after the FBI arrived.”
Anthony pushed further. “Maybe before they showed up. Think, dear.”
“All he said was that he had it and no one else would get it. He did say something very strange.”
“What?”
“It’s about you. He must hate you very much.” Kathryn broke down again. “I can’t believe I’m responsible for all of this.”
Anthony, working hard at being patient, took a deep breath and raised his wife off his shoulder. “What did he say that was so strange, darling?”
Kathryn took a deep breath. “That he and ol’ Winston had a big surprise for you and Uncle Nick.”
Anthony thought for a second. “Winston, who’s Win…?” Anthony stopped. A chill went through his whole body. “Darling, could he have said Winfield, Mr. Winfield?”
Kathryn nodded. “Yes, that’s what he said, Winfield. He and Winfield had a surprise for you and Uncle Nick.”
Anthony leaned back into the sofa and said nothing
“What does that mean, Anthony? Who’s Winfield?”
Anthony looked at his wife and forced a smile. “A friend of my uncle’s. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart. It’s over now.”
Anthony took Kathryn in his arms. His eyes were closed but not without vision—the vision being of Thurman Winfield biting down on a shotgun.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“How do you feel, David?” the man with the gray Van Dyke beard asked.
“Good,” David answered with a soft and relaxed tone.
Doctor Richard Wright, the bureau’s leading psychiatrist, turned to Fowler and nodded. All of the curtains had been pulled, and save for the tiny desk lamp sitting in the corner, the room was dark. David was stretched out on a Lazy-Boy recliner. Fowler sat close-by with an opened note pad, and Dani sat on the sofa biting a fingernail.
“David, it’s Tom Fowler, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” David replied.
“I want you to go back to the last time you spoke with Henry.”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing at the time?”
“Sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
“Yes, I was sleeping, and Henry called me—woke me up.”
“What time was that, do you remember?”
“Three fifty-eight in the morning,” David replied.
“Good. And you know the exact time because…”
“I looked at the clock.”
“Good. Do you remember the first thing he said?”
David squinted his closed eyes, trying to remember. “He said, Davey, Davey, it’s me—are you there?”
“Davey, he called you Davey?”
“Yes, that’s what Henry calls me.”
“Okay, what did you say?”
“I said—” David’s breathing became shallow, and his head twitched. He was back in his apartment. “I said, Henry, I can’t believe it’s you.”
“You haven’t heard from him in a long time, have you, David?”
“No, it’s been years.”
“Why is he calling you now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what does he say is the reason?”
“He says…he needs to borrow something from me.”
“What? What does he need to borrow?”
“The gift.”
“And you know what he means.”
“No.”
“When do you know what gift he’s talking about?”
“When he says…the one by the master.”
“Then you know he’s talking about the Mozart music?”
“Yes.”
“David, do you know why he wants to borrow the Mozart music?”
“No. He’s…” David’s face contorted.
“He’s what, David?”
“He’s…very excited, agitated—something’s wrong.”
“Like what?” Fowler asked, scribbling in his note pad.
“I don’t know…he’s just…very nervous.”
“So he’s more nervous than excited?”
“Yes, he’s nervous.”
“Does he calm down when you tell him he can have the music?”
“Yes—no, a little, but…”
“But what David?”
“He calms down until I tell him I don’t have it. Then I tell him I have it in a safety deposit box at the bank, and I can’t get it ’til the morning.”
“Then he calms down again?”
“Yes.”
“David, do you ask him why he wants it?”
“Yes."
"And what does he say?"
"He says he can’t tell me about it on the phone—he will when we meet.”
“And what do you say?”
David swallowed hard, and tears start rolling down his cheeks. “I say…I’m sorry…and…it’s going to be great to see you again, Professor. I've thought about you a lot, and I can’t wait to talk to you…I really need to talk to you…”
Dani listened from the couch with her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing. She was crying.
“And what does he say, David?”
“He says, it’ll be great seeing you again also, Davey…” David begins sobbing.
Fowler pushes on. “What time are you to meet him, David?”
“Eleven.”
“So you’re—”
“No, I mean ten, I say eleven, but Henry says ten would be better because he has some business at eleven. Afterward we’d spend the day together.”
“That’s what I thought,” Fowler said, writing in his notebook.
“I should go over there,” David began babbling. “I should go and see him now. I know I should…I shouldn't wait." David inhales abruptly and holds his breath. "Oh God, no," David says with an intense whisper.
"What, David?"
"TV—there’s a murder at Henry’s hotel—I know—oh God, I know—it’
s Henry, I don’t know how, but…I can feel it, I can—”
“There was nothing you could do, David,” Fowler said.
“The police…in my house, they say I did it. It’s crazy. It’s—”
“Okay, David, relax."
"Why?" David screamed. "Why, why?”
“Oh, David,” Dani said from across the room.
“They tell me he was killed after I talked to him—they say they know because he ordered breakfast. If I’d just gone over there—”
“Doctor?” Fowler looked over at the FBI psychiatrist who was already kneeling in front of David.
“Okay, David, deep breaths,” Wright said. “Listen to my voice, deep breaths. You’re feeling your body floating on water again. Just floating, it's very peaceful. Deep breaths, deep breaths.”
David’s breath became slow and steady, and his body relaxed.
“I think that’s all we should do,” the psychiatrist said to Fowler.
Fowler nodded.
“Okay, David, I’m going to count to three, and on three you’re going to open your eyes. You’re going to feel wonderful, like you just had a good night’s sleep, and you will remember everything you said here, okay? One, two, three.”
David opened his bloodshot eyes and looked around the room.
“He didn’t go to L.A. to see you,” Fowler said, opening the drapes. “He was there for another reason—and he was scared. He knew somebody else was after the music. We have to find out who his eleven o'clock was with.”
Dani walked over to David and put her arms around him. As she released the embrace and pulled back, she saw David staring into space.
“David, are you okay?” Dani asked.
David looked at Dani and then Fowler. “Henry wasn’t alone.”
“How do you know that?” Fowler asked.
“Because he had breakfast.”